


How Many Rounds

by nagia



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-27
Updated: 2009-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagia/pseuds/nagia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elena, Tifa, the kitchen, a (possibly loaded, possibly unloaded) gun, and the rubber band that used to be holding the bundle of asparagus closed.  Oh, and consensual sex.  That too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Many Rounds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [drakonlily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakonlily/gifts).



Elena admits it: she's not what she would call proud of her job and what it was in the past, but she's not _quite_ ashamed, either. And she's certainly not above using who she used to be to get what she wants.

Take, for instance, the fact that Tifa is currently tied quite securely--as securely as it's possible to be tied--to two of the cabinets in her kitchen. Apparently, Tifa never would have guessed that Elena's tie serves a functional purpose, or that it's possible to tie someone up with the rubber band that used to be holding together a clump of asparagus.

Elena unbuttons Tifa's shorts, traces her long nails on the cotton front of her underwear. She can feel Tifa's trim pubic hair through the cotton.

Tifa makes a noise, a strangled sound. She pulls her arms in from where they're spread, causing the cabinet doors to jerk. One of them makes a groaning sound and Elena looks up. It's been half torn off its hinge.

"Now, Tifa," she says, the grin leaking into her voice. "I thought you didn't want anybody destroying your bar?"

Tifa looks over at the cabinet, chagrined, and Elena takes advantage of her momentary distraction to pull down both the shorts and her underwear with one smooth tug. Tifa laughs, at that, gives a breathless little chuckle.

Elena clicks her tongue, pulls her gun from its holster. She pulls the magazine out and sets it on the counter, not far from Tifa's back. It's the work of a minute to disassemble the gun, make sure there aren't any rounds in the chamber, then to reassemble it.

"We need to keep you quiet. Wouldn't want Cloud coming home and finding out." She weighs the gun in her hand, second-guessing herself.

"And your plan is…?" Tifa raises an eyebrow.

She makes her decision. "Open your mouth."

Tifa's eyes flick to the gun and the eyebrow rises a little higher. It's an Are you sure?

"Don't worry, no chance of it going off in your mouth, even if it had any rounds." Elena smiles, but she finds herself biting her lip after a moment.

"Okay. We'll try it," Tifa finally says, leans her head back, closes her eyes, opens her mouth.

"Do something if you start to choke," she says as pushes it in carefully. The restraints, after all, aren't really restraining her. Tifa can pulverize an oaken church pew with one fist; her own kitchen cabinets are certainly no match for her.

She's careful with both Tifa's mouth and the gun. The bartender's expression is nervous, though, the eyes have just the faintest hint of panic. Elena sucks on her earlobe, gently, and whispers, "Nothing's going to go wrong."

Once the gun is in her mouth, Elena steps back from her handiwork, admires the half-sexy, half-depressing sight. She kneels slowly, reaches out. She plants a long kiss on Tifa's knee, slides her hands along Tifa's legs, moving from the calf to the thigh, and Tifa shivers.

Elena traces her fingernails in sharp lines on Tifa's legs. Red lines appear on those pale thighs, though she hasn't cut hard enough to make her bleed. They're just little scratches; gone in a day or two. Elena traces her tongue along one and Tifa jerks, makes a strangled noise around the gun in her mouth.

Elena pushes the other woman's legs just a little farther apart, teases Tifa with her tongue. The way Tifa jerks--and the noise of the cabinet her right wrist is tied to coming just a little more unhinged--makes her smile. She swirls her tongue close to Tifa's clit, but doesn't quite touch it. Not yet.

"Tilt your head back a little," she murmurs. "Have some fun, huh?"

Tifa's reply is an indignant, if muffled, snort. But she obeys anyway.

Gently, she presses her lips to that little nub, sucks lightly on it and listens to Tifa make even more noise around that gun. Not exactly as quiet as she wanted her to be, but at least Tifa's enjoying herself. She flicks her tongue across it and smiles when Tifa's hips move, though the rest of Tifa stays mostly stationary.

"Nngh," Tifa says.

Elena chuckles. "No kidding?"

And then it's back between Tifa's legs before she can try to answer, back to using her mouth against her. Tifa's wet, really wet, but Elena doesn't mind the taste, never has, and she presses her tongue inside, finding her warm, tight, smooth. She reaches up to press a thumb against her, pleased at the way Tifa's hips buck, at the muffled noises Tifa is making.

It's not long before Tifa is shuddering and silent, her eyes closed in an intent expression.

When the other woman has relaxed and isn't likely to accidentally rip the cabinet door the rest of the way off the wall, Elena stands. She liberates Tifa of the Glock, presses a kiss against those swollen lips. She tastes gunpowder and lipgloss and loves it.

"Your turn next," Tifa murmurs in a bare, breathy whisper.

"I look forward to it."


End file.
